


One Week

by rinabina



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Domestic, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, New love, Saint Petersburg, Yuri POV, Yuri does the dishes, post episode 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-24 23:30:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9791903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinabina/pseuds/rinabina
Summary: Yuuri moves to Saint Petersburg after the Grand Prix and Victor offers him something he never expected.  He has one week to decide.One week of practice, dates and domestic bliss with Victor Nikiforov.  What could possibly be better?  (My son, Yuri Plisetsky, that's who)





	1. Chapter 1

_Sunday_

 

“Just give me a week,” Victor murmured into my ear.

A picture frame was digging painfully into my shoulder but I couldn’t move even if I wanted to.  He had me pinned against the wall in the narrow entryway of his Saint Petersburg apartment.  His cheek was cold against my skin, but the pressure was _so_ welcome after the long, lonely flight from Japan.  As were his lips, tracing indistinguishable patterns on my neck, where my skin was still warm from my scarf.

“A week?” I managed eventually, fisting handfuls of his wool jacket between my gloved fingers.

Victor pulled back enough to meet my eyes.  His hair was mussed from our embrace, but his eyes were bright with happiness and excitement.  “In my apartment.  Stay here a week and decide what to do.”

“Wasn’t that was already the plan?”  I felt dizzy and overstimulated.  From the cold air, long flight and from Victor’s hands all over me.  Over Victor’s shoulder, I could see the pile of my luggage that barely made it through the door before he pinned me here.

He shook his head with a crooked smile and brushed my snow-damp hair off my face.  “Not just until you find a place.  I want you to think about living here. With me.”

My eyes widened.  “Victor…”

“Because _I_ want you to live here.  It’s just not the same without you, Yuuri.”

I didn’t know what to say.  My mouth bobbed unhelpfully, gaping in deep lungfuls of air.  Of Victor, his apartment and Russia.  He smelled like aftershave and soap.  I wanted to burrow into his jacket and stay there forever.

_Living with Victor._

“Give it a week - give me and Makkachin a chance.  I know you may want your own space, and I understand that.  But maybe together, I can help you in ways you couldn’t help yourself.  I know you already do that for me.”

He kissed me sweetly on the lips, as the period to his sentence, and the end of his plea.  I melted into his arms and pulled him close.

 _One week_.

 

* * *

 

_Monday_

 

Yakov’s coaching style was intense.  Yurio called him a ‘task master,’ and Georgi called us his ‘militia.’  I thought that was a little extreme, but I couldn't remember a time when my joints and muscles felt so strained.

We’d spent hours stretching and warming up this morning, a regiment that Victor never seemed to care much about as my coach.  Probably because he was too impatient to appreciate it himself.  After nearly a year of minimal stretch-training, my flexibility was lacking, especially in comparison to the ballet-trained Yurio.  He spent much of the warm up hours glaring at me with his leg over his head some way or another.

Victor hadn’t joined us today, he was meeting his physical therapist to work out a training regiment that wouldn’t compromise his bad knee.  Of course, I’d been fully aware several years ago when Victor missed a season to recuperate after a knee surgery.  It hadn’t come up in our time together at all, and I hoped that meant it wasn’t bothering him.  That being said, nine months without constant strength training and impact on the joint could gravely affect his comeback if he took it too quickly.

He had dropped me off at the rink that morning before continuing on to his appointment.  He pulled my glove off my hand before pressing a cold-lipped kiss to the inside of my palm.  “Don’t let Yurio boss you around.”

“I won’t.”

“Do what Yakov says.  He means well.”

“I know.”

“I’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait.”

Victor hurriedly kissed my hand several more times, as though he was trying to pull himself away, then helped me pull my glove back on.  He waved and continued down the street.

To be honest, I had hardly noticed his absence all day.

I missed him, of course, but my inspiration for a continued season was so intense, I was more than devoted to practice.  What’s more, Yakov didn’t seem nearly as terrifying as I thought he’d be.  Perhaps my expectations had prepared me well enough.

“Pig!” I looked up from my stretch as Yurio slid to a stop behind me.  A shower of ice pattered against my leg.  I lowered my skate from the barrier and faced him.

“Hi,” I said, realizing we hadn’t spoken a full sentence to each other since I arrived this morning.

“Does the prince have you doing his laundry yet?”

My face flushed.  I didn’t fully know just _how_ much everyone knew about Victor and my relationship.  I supposed there was a certain amount you could assume based on the fact that I was here at all...

“Well, don’t let him.  You’re one of us now and we take care of ourselves.”  It came out as a shout, as Yurio’s advice normally did, but I couldn’t hide the small smile that tugged on the corner of my mouth.

“Hai,” I said with a nod.  

He tugged the tie out of his blond hair and let it tumble around his face.  With a flip of his fringe, he freed his eyes long enough to glare at me.  “Are you going to show me Vitya’s place or not?”

“What?”

“I want to see where the Prince lives with his Piggy-”

“Plisetsky!” Yakov shouted from across the rink.

Yurio froze.  

“I told you to fend for yourself for supper tonight, no?  I’ve got a date tonight and I don’t want you around!”

Yurio paid his coach no further acknowledgement.  Which was probably a good thing, as my smile had grown considerably.

“Do you need a place to eat dinner, Yurio?”

His red-hot gaze flipped back to me.  “How _dare_ you call me that name in my home country!”

By now I had crossed my arms over my chest, a position of mock strength that I felt, _just this once_ , over the blonde fairy at my feet.  “Do you want dinner or not?”

I could practically see the smoke coming from his ears.  “Who has dates on a Monday?” he said instead.  “Yakov _and_ Georgi, that’s who. And I’m _not_ going over to Milla’s house again because last time she made the worst borscht I’ve ever eaten.  I _hate_ not having my own place.”

Without waiting for him, I took off in the direction of the locker room.  “Vicchan was supposed to pick up some things for me today.  There should be plenty of food for you too.”

“Who the hell is _‘Vicchan’_?!”  I didn’t wait for him to catch up.

When we arrived back at the apartment a long while later, I stared momentarily at the closed front door.  This was the first time I’d arrived to the apartment on my own.  I checked the shiny, silver numbers to make sure I had the right unit, then looked down at the key in my hand.

I had a key to Victor Nikiforov’s apartment.  

Where I could potentially live...with him...as his lover.

“Do you want me to kick it open or something?”

I glared down at Yurio and fit the key into the lock.  Makkachin was barking before I even turned the handle.  Inside it was warm, and smelled clean.  The lights were low, but even after a few short hours here, I felt like I was already familiar with it.  We hung our coats in the hallway, by the door and I heard the small tremor in my voice as I said, “Victor?”

“Yuuri!” I heard him cry from around the corner.  He slid into view on the slick floor with his socks, an expression of pure joy and excitement on his face.  That lasted only a moment, until he caught sight of my young companion.  “Yurio?”

I walked over to meet him, and still high on my power over Yurio, stepped right up to his tall frame.  To my surprise and pleasure, Victor leaned into my body and looked down to meet my eyes.  “I see we have a visitor?” he asked.

Now the confidence vanished and I felt my cheeks heat.  “Yes, um sorry.  He needed a place to go for dinner and-”

Victor placed his hand on the small of my back to silence my mumbling.  “I see.  The more the merrier, then!”

We looked back over to where Yurio was standing in the hallway, with Makkachin at his feet, tail beating gently on the floor.  His arms were crossed over his chest.  “Go ahead,” he said, gruffly.

“Go ahead, what?” Victor asked.

Yurio gestured between us with his hands, then mashed them together grotesquely.  “Do your disgusting romantic things that you do and then get it over with so I can actually eat my food.”

The blush on my cheeks intensified.  So they did know everything.  I swallowed thickly.  “We don’t...that’s not how…”

Victor silenced me with the slow motion of his hand sweeping across my back.  I looked up at him.  “My house, my rules, Kitten.  Leave your shoes at the door and go wash your hands.”

With the grace and poise of a talented ballet dancer, Yurio kicked his shoes towards the hallway where they smacked into the door with a _thunk_ , then stomped in the direction of the washroom and slammed the door.  I blinked at where he’d been standing.

“It’s about time we have an excuse to teach that boy manners,” Victor hissed, tightening his arm around me slightly, now that we were alone.  He smiled at me.  “Nice of you to invite him, Yuuri.  Although I’ll admit, I was looking forward to taking you out tonight.”

I didn’t flinch or seize up when he pressed a kiss to my temple.  “I know, I’m sorry.  I didn’t think now was the time to stop making friends.  And besides, Yakov yelled at him from across the rink about kicking him out for the night.  Everyone heard it.”

“Look at you,” Victor chuckled.  “Drunk on power.  I like it.  It’s a good exercise for you.”  He released me and gestured towards the kitchen.  I followed.  “You can keep working on that confidence, and the Kitten can work on his humility. Or try.”

We started gathering the ingredients and supplies I’d asked Victor to buy earlier in the day.  From the shelf above the stove, I grabbed a few bottles I’d brought with me from Japan.  Sauces, seasonings and oils.  If I couldn’t make myself a decent bowl of rice in Russia, I’d never last.

Victor told me about his appointment and resulting strengthening exercises. I told him about my first practice and new affinity for stretch-work.  He waved it off and talked about all the things I could be doing to improve my jump success rate.  We’d been talking for several minutes animatedly about skating before either of us realized Yurio was sitting at the counter watching us.

We both stared at him warily.

“Is that really what it’s like to be in a relationship?”

Victor bristled.

“I thought there would be more…” he jammed his hands together again, a primitive display of aggressive affection.

Rather than answer, Victor thrust a nearby bag of vegetables into Yurio’s arms then threw a cutting board down on the counter with a knife.  “You want to eat, you need to work.  Start chopping for Yuuri.”  Then, as Yurio grumbled over the random pile of onion, carrot and greens, Victor pulled me towards him and kissed me on the lips.

I froze.

From across the counter, Yurio’s eye were wide.  “Gross,” he mumbled, before reaching for the knife, and slicing off the top of the onion.

 

It wasn’t until dinner was consumed and put away, that the events of the day finally piled on top of me.  I’d moved to Russia to continue my skating career, alongside my boyfriend, a legendary figure skater, who was asking me to move in with him. I’d befriended the skater who beat me in the Grand Prix finals _and_ embarrassed me in the bathroom the year before.  I was training under a new coach, in a new country away from everything I knew, and yet I was still somehow able to make chicken teriyaki for dinner tonight.

I leaned against the counter and slid my hands over my face, into my hair.

On the list of things I never thought I’d do after my 2014 Grand Prix loss…

“Yuuri, I was thinking I’d-” Victor appeared in the kitchen with his jacket and Makkachin’s leash, then froze when he saw my face. “Hey, are you okay?”

I flashed him a sheepish smile.  “Just tired.”  It was vague, but it was still the truth.

Victor remained in the doorway with a small, sweet smile, somehow knowing that what I needed most right now, was this empty kitchen, all to myself.

“I’m going to walk Yurio home and take Makkachin out.  Will you be okay here for a bit?”

I nodded once more.

Before he left, he waved his hand in the direction of the sink and stove, littered with dirty dishes.  “Don’t touch any of that. I’ll do it when I get home.  You cooked, I clean.  See? I’m learning!”

I laughed to myself as I eyed the moderate mess in the room.  I’d do it while he was gone, it would help me think anyway.  Loud clomping echoed off the tile behind me and I turned to face a sullen, hunched Yurio.

“Thank you for dinner, Pig,” he barked, then scurried around the corner and out the front door.

“See, I told you it wasn’t difficult,” I heard Victor say, before closing it.

With the house to myself, it only took me a few short minutes to clean the kitchen and put everything away.  I put the soy sauce and sesame oil back on the shelf with a kind of reverence, and felt the slight tug of homesickness in my chest.  I’d been living on my own for a long time now, even further from Japan than this, but somehow the first few days were still really difficult.

As I swallowed around the lump forming in my throat, I contemplated how much worse it would be if I was instead without Victor - if my family, my friends and my home rink would ever sooth over the chasm in my chest without Victor by my side.  The thought alone dropped the bottom of my stomach.

I hushed my brain for now, and finished wiping down the countertops.

Victor’s apartment was beautiful, and contemporary.  It was moderately tidy, aside from marks of his laziness; like the pair of socks over the back of a chair, and the empty glasses abandoned on the coffee table.  Everything else seemed to have its own space, which was good, considering the apartment itself wasn’t very large.

Large enough for the two of us, perhaps.

I stood in the middle of the wide room, somewhere between the kitchen and the living area.  There was the fallout from Yurio on the sofa, where nearly all of the cushions had been pushed to the floor and flattened somehow.  Empty cans of soda littered his side of the table.  For Victor, an empty glass for wine.  I grabbed the cans and the glass, and deposited them in the clean kitchen.

Once the cushions were back on the sofa, I let myself fall into it face first.  It smelled like Victor, like Makkachin, and the life they had made here.  I wondered if someday the other side of the sofa would smell more like me.  Would Victor want that?  The TV was still on at a low volume across from me.  Tinted, pale light splashed across the walls as the picture changed, speaking words I didn’t understand.  I watched it blindly, and let my eyes fall limp, until they closed and I fell asleep.

I didn’t know how much time had passed before I felt the unforgettable weight of Victor Nikiforov on top of my whole body.  I grunted awake.

“Yuuri Katsuki asleep on my couch.  As I live and breathe,” I heard softly, as lips pressed to my cheek.  “However shall I get you into my bed?”

I smiled and pressed my face into the cushion before cracking open an eye.  “You could carry me...”

Victor was grinning at me.  “Doctor’s orders, no lifting.”

We laughed together, and the deep rumble of his laughter against my spine almost made my chest explode with happiness.  Part of me never wanted to move from this couch.  Not ever.

However, Victor’s body sagged heavily against mine and eventually my ribs began to protest.  With more poking and prodding, he finally got me off the couch and to my feet.  I followed the gentle tug on my hand towards the back of the apartment where Victor’s room was.

“You cleaned the kitchen,” he scolded, holding the door open for the dog and then closing it behind us.  The room was quiet, and dimly lit from the large bed on the far wall.  He frog marched me to the washroom and handed me my toothbrush.  “I told you not to.”

I shrugged and wet the brush under the sink.  “I needed the distraction.”

Victor had excused himself to change for bed, and I couldn’t see him out the doorway.  “Is everything okay?” he asked, voice muffled from the closet.

Rather than answer, I  watched myself in the mirror as I brushed, until suddenly I wasn’t the only face in the reflection.

“Yuuri?”

I met his bright blue eyes through the mirror.  I could see the concern there, and the love, even if his mouth was in a worried, tight line.

“I’m okay,” I said, garbling around the toothpaste in my mouth.

He looked so pleased, I thought he might vibrate right out of his skin, until the followed my lead and started brushing his teeth.  We watched each other, with happy eyes, and mouths full of foam.  The fears and anxieties from earlier melted away in the back of my mind as I lived _this_.  Life with Victor.  The mundane and the sweet.  

When we climbed into bed, he snaked his arms around me and pulled me tight to his chest.  Last night, we’d been hungry and frantic with lust. Tonight we were content and calm.  

“Have I scared you away yet?” he asked, into my hair.  I felt his voice, rather than heard it; deep reverberations against my back, and warm breaths against my scalp.

“Not even close.”

His arms tightened around me.

“Is Yurio going to spill all our dark secrets?” I asked sleepily.

“Do we have dark secrets?”

“No, but I think you’re still a bit of an enigma to your teammates.  He might humanize you.”

Victor hummed a laugh and tangled our feet together. “I think you’ve already done that over the past few months.”  There was silence between us as we both tried to bite back our own happiness from exploding out of our chests.  He nuzzled his nose deeper into my hair.  “Although we should be ready.  I dare say the Kitten had a nice time with us tonight.  It might become a regular thing.”

“I wouldn’t mind that.  Would you?”

A long, sleepy pause, before his answer came.  “No. I wouldn’t.”

 

* * *

 

_Tuesday_

 

Practice with Victor as a peer and teammate was strange and more difficult than I thought it would be.  Where yesterday, I was able to focus on Yakov’s precise instructions, today I was continuously torn between listening to Yakov, and asking for Victor’s opinion.

Even he seemed to be struggling with the line of command.  He had his own work to do, and his own road to success.  In fear of getting in his way, I ended up ignoring him altogether.   _That_ didn’t go over well either, and as we broke for lunch, I watched him dejectedly skate away to the lockers on his own.

I wasn’t sure who, if anyone, would be waiting for me outside the rink for lunch, but my insides practically melted away when I saw that it was Victor.  When I reached him, he took both sides of my jacket and pulled them tighter around my neck.  I recognized it for what it was, an excuse to pull me closer, and a gentle form of apology.

“I don’t know where this all fits in,” I said, looking up at his face, lit brightly by the thin sunlight peeking through the grey clouds.  “I don’t want to upset Yakov by questioning his methods, but how do I do that without also insulting yours?”

“It’s not your responsibility, Yuuri,” Victor said softly, but not unkindly.   He let go of my jacket, and wrapped an arm around my shoulders as he led me away to lunch.  “I’ll talk with Yakov. I think, based on my training schedule, I can devote days as your chief coach, without being distracted by my own work.  Can we do that?”

I nodded, and we walked in silence for a block.  

“I didn’t like being ignored by you,” he said absently, slowing us in front of a small cafe, and opening the door for me.  As we stood in line, I watched him quietly, unsure what to say.  He surprised me by smiling.  “I didn’t realize how used to each other we’d become.”

There wasn’t time for me to reply.  He quickly ordered our lunches in Russian, then helped me count enough rubles to pay for it.  As I waited for change, he pressed a swift kiss high on my cheek as he went to find a table.

The small bit of affection was enough to make my knees shake.

When we returned to the rink, Yurio was waiting out front.  He held up a large paper sack and raised his eyebrows, as though we could somehow see inside and be impressed with its contents.

“My grandpa’s recipe,” he called, as we approached.  “I’ll bring them over tonight to repay you for dinner.”

We both blinked down at him.

“Well don’t just _stand_ there! Do I get to come over, or not?”

“With an attitude like that? I don’t think so, tiny Kitten.  Try again.”  Victor tugged my hand and pulled me inside before Yurio had a chance to answer.

Much later, after practice, our young friend tried once more.  “I’d like to share my pirozhki with you.  May I please come over for dinner?”

Victor reached for the bag, and took it into his arms.  “You may.”

 

Pork cutlet pirozhkis were the balm I needed after a very long day.  We ate mostly in silence, savoring every crumb, and crispy bite of pork.  It felt right this way, with Victor and I, and with Yurio too.  

I watched Victor from across the table, noting the way his silver hair curved around his forehead.  I’d been watching him at practice today, hungrily taking in every moment that I could.  When he’d skated with me as my coach, he was always relaxed and out of the spotlight.  It wasn’t quite the same as seeing him at work.  The way he launched himself into the air was exquisite, and his strong frame on the ice was masterful.  I felt a renewed sense of longing for _this_ Victor, who in a way, I didn’t really know that well.

I was lucky.  I’d gotten to know _my_ Victor, perhaps the _real_ Victor, over the course of the last year.  Things would never have happened this way if we’d met on the ice as competitors.

My thoughts must have been plastered all over my face.  Whatever Victor saw there when he met my eye, made him look like he was glowing.  And a little hungry...

“Yurio?” he said, without looking away.

“Da,” was the distracted answer.

“Do you need a walk home tonight?”

Yurio slammed his napkin on the table.  “What kind of dumbass question is that? Of course I do! Yakov’s place is _miles_ away and I have to walk through the really scary part of town.  You _said_ you would walk me home when I came here, Vitya!”

By now both of us were staring at him.

“Besides, old-farts.  I just got here.”

Victor’s eyebrows lowered.  “Sometimes, dinner is dinner.  Other times, it’s not.  Tonight, it’s just dinner, Kitten.”

With a vicious, loathing look, Yurio stood and gathered the plates as loudly as possible.

“I’ll walk him,” I said to Victor, reaching for his hand.  “I’m sure he’ll lead me the right way.”

Victor lifted my hand from the table and pressed my fingers to his lips.  “Don’t dawdle.  Please.  I’d like you home soon.”

My stomach dropped to the floor.  “Victor…”

The tip of his warm, pink tongue pressed firmly to the inside of my wrist and I lept out of my chair.  “Yurio, time to go!”

 

The cold outside was like an iron grip around our bodies; squeezing every ounce of warmth and comfort out of our bones.  The rhythmic puffs of our breath rose to the dark sky, lit orange by the streetlights.  Makkachin pranced daintily across the slush at my side.

“Thanks for walking me home,” I heard softly.

Yurio hadn’t looked up, and I could hardly see his face inside the fur-lined hood he wore over his head.

“It’s my pleasure,” I said back, just as quietly.  “We like having you over, you know.”

A wide, green eye peeked around his hood.  “Really?”

I smiled.  “It’s nice to have friends, rather than enemies.  Wouldn’t you say?”

Yurio growled and turned away.  “Enemies help me work harder.”

“Am I still your enemy?”

We both watched Makkachin pounce on a piece of frozen litter before he answered.  

“No.”  A quiet beat passed before he added, “But you’re not my friend either!”

“That’s fine.”

We walked in silence through another part of town.  Here the streets were darker, and some of the windows were boarded up.  This must have been the area Yurio mentioned back at the apartment.  His pace quickened, and I followed.  The dog seemed unbothered.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, abruptly.

I watched our shoes across the pavement.  I was smiling when I said, “In general or...?”

“Piss off. You know what I mean!”

I indulged myself in a chuckle.  “No. You haven’t.”

“Then why did you kick me out so early tonight?”

The look on Victor’s face rocketed back into my memory and sent jolts of lightning down my legs to my toes.   _Victor_.

“I’m still getting used to my surroundings,” I said evenly.  “Tonight I just wanted to be alone with Victor, that’s all.”

Another two blocks passed in silence.  I was relieved that he didn’t have a violent reaction to what I’d said, or accuse me of being a crybaby.  It was the truth, even if I didn’t owe it to him.  We crossed into a nicer residential neighborhood.  The apartments were tall and ornate.  The bright orange light of the street seemed to strip the buildings of their true beauty.

“Vitya has always been so selfish.”

That didn’t surprise me.  Successful athletes usually were.

“It’s nice to see him this way.  With you.”  I could hear the strain in his voice, like he’d rather be kicking something instead of saying nice things to me.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” I joked, as we stopped at a red street light.

“Will you shut up! I’m trying to give a compliment!”

Makkachin barked at Yurio, and he hunched back down into his jacket.  The apartment was only a few buildings down from the intersection.  Yurio stopped without warning and nodded towards the steps.  “This is it.”  He looked so small standing next to the building; all legs and shoulders and the fluff of his jacket.  Still so young.

He squinted, lifted his leg off the pavement, and gently tapped his toe against my shin.  “Thanks,” he hissed.

“Goodnight Yurio.”

 

The house was dark and quiet when I returned.  Only the dim lights from the kitchen remained on.  I creeped down the hall, towards the next source of light.  Makkachin had abandoned me in the living room, perhaps sensing a cue that I hadn’t detected.  The bedroom was lit with the soft, warm glow of candles.  As I entered, Victor stood up from lighting the last one, and walked towards me.  Without a word, he shut the door, pressed me against it, and took my face in his hands.  

“Yuuri,” he sighed, like I was something precious.  I felt his slow kiss down to my toes, and looped my arms around his neck.

We didn’t talk after that.

 

* * *

 

_Wednesday_

 

Victor arrived home from practice hours after I’d left the rink.  He rushed through the door with a flurry of snow and fanfare.  “Yuuri!  Are you dressed?”

I was reading on the couch and merely lifted my head high enough to see him.  “Can you elaborate?”

He pranced over, took my hands and heaved me from the sofa.  “I’m late, and we have reservations!  Come, we must change.”

It was a fair request, I was still wearing my sweatpants.  Victor shed his overcoat, scarf and sweatshirt on the floor as he made his way to the closet.  He formed a small pile of his clothes on the bed, shortly followed by a pile of _my_ clothes.

“Blazers?” I asked, eyeing the top half of my Barcelona-bought, Zara suit sprawled on the bed.  “Where are we going?”

Victor emerged from the closet, shirtless, pantless and clad only in his briefs.  I swallowed thickly as my eyes automatically traveled down his muscled chest to the v-shape at the base of his stomach…  We’d been intimate with each other for months now, seen all there was to see, and yet, Victor Nikiforov in his underwear still rendered me useless.

He stopped before me, clasped both my shoulders and kissed me on each cheek.  “You’re in Piter now, darling.  Time to be fancy!”

We dressed quickly, and at last, Victor emerged from the closet in a pleasant cloud of aftershave and Amani.  I loved him in blue, but this charcoal gray jacket was a close second favorite.  I, on the other hand, felt incredibly stupid.

“My you look lovely,” he cooed contrarily, tucking my shirt collar under the lapel of my suit and smoothing the fabric over my chest.  “I think we’re ready, with time to spare, even.  Shall we go?”

We caught a cab from outside Victor’s building, huddled close together in the light flurries of snow.  He held my hand tightly in his lap throughout the cab ride, as my eyes traced sight after sight.  Everything was lit brightly from below in beautiful, golden light.  Palaces, offices, libraries and cathedrals.  I had never seen anything quite like it.

The taxi ride was short, and soon we were standing in front of a wide, and ornate brick building spanning an entire block.  “Our first stop,” Victor said with a fond sigh, gesturing for me to enter through the wooden doors before us.  “After you, my love.”

His affections were making me dizzy in the best possible way.

The building turned out to be a hotel, and a grand one at that.  We left our coats at the front, and I followed Victor through the marble lobby and several wide arched doorways until we entered a massive, brightly lit atrium.  The stained glass ceiling echoed a soft tinkling of piano music from further back in the room.  Small tables filled with patrons crowded the space, all surrounding a buffet of seafood, caviar and fruit.  

It was beautiful.

“Victor,” I sighed, reaching for his hand. He squeezed it tightly.  “I don’t know what to say.  This is one of the nicest places anyone has ever taken me.”

His mouth curved into a wide, pleased smile.  “We’re just getting started!  No practice tomorrow means a fun night ahead for us.”

Anxiety began swirling high in my stomach as we were led to our table.   _Fun night_. Drinking...  I still hadn’t touched a drop since the previous year’s Grand Prix banquet.  Would this perfect evening together turn into another drunken blur too?  I swallowed loudly.

“You’re in your head, Yuuri.  What’s wrong?”  Victor draped his napkin over his lap and popped open the menu.

“Nothing, I still can’t believe this place, is all.”

He eyed me curiously before closing the menu with a _snap_ and signaling the waiter.  “I’ll order everything.  All I ask, is that you try it once.  It’s no katsudon, but it is delicious.”

We ate plate after plate of perfection.  Pickled fish and vegetables.  Salty caviar on tiny pancakes.  Bowls of sweet, savory soups and potatoes.  And yes, a sip or two of the best vodka on the menu.  Victor’s eyes nearly rolled back into his head when he tasted it.  “Heaven,” he sighed.

When we had finished I felt like I was glowing.  Full of warm food, and smiling on the inside and out.  Victor was watching me from across the table with his chin in his hands.  His eyes crinkled in the corners.

“You look good in Russia,” he said, voice pure happiness.

I felt my cheeks heat.  “Russia is a beautiful country.”

“That’s not why,” he said, with a slow shake of his head.  His hair swayed across his brow.  Victor reached across the table to drag a knuckle across my cheek.  “The cold bites you right here.  I could stare at it all day.  And your hair is getting longer.”

“Victor…”

He pulled his hand back in surrender.  “As you wish.  Are you ready for the next stop?”

There was that tingle of anxiety again…

“You’re worried about drinking too much, aren’t you?” he prodded, gently.  I pursed my lips in response.  “Don’t worry about that.  I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to.”

This time I was the one to reach across the table.

Once we were bundled up in our coats, scarves and gloves, he lead me around the corner to a coffee stand where I stepped in front of him to purchase our coffees.  “Let me at least do this much,” I pleaded, handing over the bills through the window.  With warm cups in tow, I followed him through a park square and towards the bank of the river.  We only needed to walk a few feet more for me to understand where we were headed.

The picturesque bulb-shaped domes of the cathedral towered over the river and the walkway below.  Lights shone off the polished towers in shades of gold, emerald, and sapphire.  All around us, people were gathered closely together, snapping photos and taking in the view.  I turned to Victor but he was already smiling at me.

“It’s not Barcelona or Japan, even, but this is my home, and I wanted to show you its beauty.”

We watched the domes sparkle in the night for as long as we could bear, with our bellies full of warm coffee.  After we took a few selfies, Victor held me close, and I pressed my face to the scratchy wool of his overcoat.  His scent was more familiar than ever, now that I knew his home and everything that went with it.  We’d spent most of my time in Russia training and picking up where we left off.  I was so grateful he’d given me the chance to _see_ Russia tonight.

I closed my fingers around the wide collar of his coat.  “Victor,” I said softly.

He hummed, and dipped his head down to listen.

“I love you.”

I heard his sharp intake of breath and felt the tightening of his arms around me.  I’d said it before, many times, but always in places so private, no one would ever hear.  It was what I was used to, what I grew up doing.  But Victor was larger than life, and everything I wasn’t.  He was forward and charming and brave.  It was about time I acted bravely too.

“Oh Yuuri,” he said, seemingly as overwhelmed by emotion as I was.  “I love you too.”

 

Afterwards, we hurried out of the cold to one of Victor’s favorite bars.  He ordered a beer for me, and a vodka for him and we talked loudly to each other over the crowd.  We talked about skaters, and routines and dreams for the future.  Our legs dangled off the bar stools, thighs pressed together under the bar.  His hand rested casually on my knee.

It was the closest I’d ever felt to him, even after everything.

We decided to walk home from the bar, something I was assured he’d done _many_ times.  I felt lit up from the inside like a lantern, floating dreamily beside Victor.  I hope he felt the same.  We laughed and held each other tight as we dodged slow walkers, dogs and other couples, huddled together.  There were several times I was sure we would freeze to death, but then he’d squeeze my hand, and I knew I could make it just a few more blocks.

It was three in the morning when we finally arrived home.  We dressed for bed quickly and huddled under the covers together until we could warm up enough to go to sleep.

“Please stay with me, Yuuri,” he begged, sleepily sifting his fingers through my hair.  It was still damp from the ice and snow.

“You said give it a week,” I reminded him, moving closer to his warm body.  “It’s only Wednesday.”

“Thursday actually, and yes, I know I said that.  I’m impatient.”  There was a pout in his voice, and it made me laugh into his t-shirt.

“I’ll hold you to your word,” I said gently, slipping my hands under his shirt and enjoying the feel of the shiver that ran down his spine.  Smooth skin and taut muscles.  “But right now, I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.”

 

* * *

 

_Thursday_

 

“Yuuri.”  It was a scolding remark, but it was hard to take seriously with his voice like that.  Breathy and hesitant, like he wasn’t _really_ sure if he wanted me to stop.

I kissed behind his ear and his arms tightened around me.  

“I had plans for us today,” he sighed.

I sat back enough to smile at him.  “Should I stop?”

Victor scowled .  “Well don’t look so pleased about it.”  His hands closed tightly around my hips.

When I leaned back in, I pressed a slow, languid kiss to his lips.  “I thought you wanted me to work on my confidence.”

This time he groaned.  “Yuuri, you’re killing me.”

“Oh,” I said, nipping his earlobe.  “Am I doing it wrong?”

Victor let out a growl and flipped us over so he was on top of me.  He was heavy, but it wasn’t unwelcome.  It was times like these that I realized just how broad he was - how strong.  “That’s enough Eros from you, katsudon.  My turn now.”

 

It was hours and hours before we were ready to go anywhere.  Despite the blissful morning spent in Victor’s bed, he seemed quite flustered that we had missed out on so many of his sightseeing plans.

“I’m going to be living here, you know.  We can go whenever we want.”  We were tying our shoes on the couch before heading out to the one attraction we had time for.

He grunted.

I reached for his hand and stopped him from finishing the knot on his boot.  “Not seeing a palace or statue isn’t going to keep me from living with you, Vicchan.”

The pet name made him melt, and I watched him close his eyes slowly as a smile spread on his face. He pressed our joined hands to his chest.  “You’re right.”

“So where _are_ we going anyway?”

He released my hand to finish knotting his shoe.  “A museum. The most beautiful museum in the entire world.”

“Want to bet?” I teased.

His eyes were playful as he rolled them heavenward and pushed himself up from the sofa, but his voice was serious when he said, “No.”  He extended a hand.  “Come, hopefully we’ll have missed the crowds.”

We took the tram car and walked to his beloved museum.  Since it was the middle of the week and the middle of the day, the streets were quiet; shushed by the fallen snow and slush in the streets.  He bought us a cup of hot tea to share as we neared the museum.  “We’ll finish it outside before we go in, it will give us something to keep our hands warm while you take it all in.”

I could tell by his voice, and the eager way he increased our walking pace that this museum meant something to Victor.  A special memory or a source of inspiration, perhaps.  I wasn’t sure.  It made my heart flip in my chest at the thought.  He’d become so intimately familiar with my hometown and everything that inspired me, and yet I knew so little about him.

The crowd around us had thickened, and it wasn’t difficult to guess that we were close to our location.  A long, iron fence stretched down the sidewalk where we walked, tipped in gold with ornate twists and carvings.  At last, we rounded through the gate and I stopped us in our tracks.

At one time, it must have been a palace, and it was beautiful.  It spanned the length of a long, brick plaza, and towered three stories tall.  White pillars topped in gold encased it like icing on a cake, and in between flashes of bright green.  Statues littered the top, like guardians from above, and snapping proudly at the top - the Russian flag.

Victor sipped our tea with a dreamy expression on his face.  His arm was slung loosely around my waist.  “It’s amazing,” I said, smiling broadly up at him.  “I can see why you love this place.”

He winked down at me and handed me the half-empty cup.  “Why is that?”

“Because it’s like you.  Beautiful and opulent.  Strong.  And Russian.”

His head fell back in a deep, throaty laugh.  “Is that so?  Finish that, let’s go inside.”

The museum was jam-packed with all sorts of artifacts and treasures.  Paintings lined the wall in heavy gilt frames alongside delicate pottery and sculptures.  All the while, the walls and floors seemed to increase in complexity and beauty.  Marble, wood, plaster and gold.  So much gold.

Victor and I stood shoulder to shoulder as we admired each painting that caught our eye.  The more we saw, the more I realized my joke about the museum was actually true.  The paint colors reminded me of the fabrics of his costumes, the poses reminded me of his choreography, and the music…

This museum _was_ Victor on the ice.

I started imagining his comeback costume.  Bright green, with white and gold trim.  A song from Tchaikovsky.  His arms stretched just so.

“What has your eyes sparkling like that?”

I jumped.  We’d been staring at a painting of ballet dancers.  The look on Victor’s face was pure sweetness.

“I’m glad you brought me here.  You were right, it would have been sad to miss this place.  I want to come back here again soon.”

He looped his arm around my neck and pulled me in roughly to kiss my cheek.  “Oh Yuuri.  If I had known you would adapt so quickly, I would have moved us here ages ago.”

My face was jammed awkwardly under his chin.  “Well, I’m here now.”

“Yes, you are.”

I reached up to tangle my fingers with his hand on my shoulder.  My fingertips brushed the smooth metal of the ring on his right hand.  The twin to my own.  I hardly noticed it anymore, but seeing it on his hand - feeling it - gave me butterflies just like the moment I had slid it on his fourth finger.

We moved on to the next wing that way, migrating the crowds in near silence with our eyes wide and excited.  Each wing was different from the last, both in design and style, and it seemed to go on forever.  Eventually our feet grew tired, and Victor’s fingers grew more and more distracting.

On the way home, we stopped at a restaurant for an early dinner.  Victor ordered us ‘pelmeni’, which came in shallow bowls filled with steaming broth.  The small meat dumplings bobbed on the surface and made my mouth water.  With a mischievous smile Victor dropped a spoonful of sour cream in the middle of my bowl and then watched me expectantly.

Like most everything else I had tried so far, it was delicious.  We ate in silence as we filled our bellies.

Makkachin greeted us happily at the door when we finally reached home.  The twilight outside shadowed the quiet apartment in calming layers of purple and blue.  Victor made his way to the living room, and sat down in the center of the rug to play with the dog.  I followed.

Soon, the three of us were sandwiched together on the floor, eyes drifting closed.  Victor had one arm draped over the dog between us, and the other acting as my pillow.  I traced the lines of his face with the tips of my fingers, mimicking the curve of his silver eyelashes on his cheek.

 _Home_.  

I’d never felt more at home in my entire life.

 

* * *

 

_Friday_

 

Memories from yesterday were all that was getting me through the grueling practice today.  My heart pounded loudly in my ears, enough to make my chest ache.  I gripped the front of my shirt and tugged, merely for something to distract me from my fatigue.

“Yuuri, again!!”

Yakov was taking no prisoners today.  I’d flubbed nearly all of my jumps and he wouldn’t let me rest until I had one success.  One proof that I knew what I was doing.

Victor looked on from across the rink.  Even from here, I could see worry etched on his face.  He’d been working on his choreography for most of the day, holed up in one corner of the rink.  When I thought I couldn’t take any more, I’d try to see what he was up to.  He was all smooth lines and delicate hands as he caressed the air between us.  He was so graceful, could I _ever_ compete with that?

“Eyes on the prize, Pig,” Yurio muttered under his breath as he zoomed passed on a lap.  

Yakov shouted again. “Yuuri!”

“Hai!” I shouted, pushing off from the wall, and starting my approach once more.  I put Victor out of my head, with all his grace and beauty.  I focused on the power, and the finesse.   _That_ I could do.  I bested Victor Nikiforov’s free skate score.

I had the skills.

I kicked into the jump and the instant I left the ice, I knew it was wrong.  The wrong angle, the wrong speed, wrong everything.  When I came down, my skate slid out from under me and I felt an unfamiliar pull in my ankle.  I cried out in alarm.

My bare elbow skidded painfully along the ice and I felt the sharp burn of a raspberry.  It was nothing compared to the throbbing of my ankle.

“Yuuri!”

I sucked in deep breaths.   _Stay calm. Stay calm.  It’s not broken._  That much I knew.  I’d sprained it like this once before.  But it _hurt_.

Victor slid to a stop beside me and dropped to his knees.  “Yuuri, are you all right?”

My face was screwed up in pain.  “Sprain, I think.”

He was already helping me to my feet.  “Don’t put weight on it.  I’ll guide you.  Can you stay upright?”

I pressed my palm flat to my forehead to ease away the headache and shaken nerves that were bouncing around inside my brain.  Just using the toe pick on my injured foot was enough to make my head spin.  “I think so.”

Victor’s arms were iron-clad around me as he pushed us towards the nearest barrier.  I held my foot off the ice and prayed I wouldn’t somehow trip.  Once off the ice, after a lot of hopping and hanging off Victor, I ended up on a bench with my foot in his lap.  His long fingers gently untied my laces and loosened them enough to slide the skate off my foot as painlessly as possible.  

“The trainer is on his way and Yakov is getting ice.  You’ll have to rest this.”  He was speaking mechanically, on autopilot.  He inspected my ankle joint gently, which didn’t hurt nearly as bad as I feared.  “It doesn’t feel broken, and you have a good range of motion.  We just need to let it rest.”

I nodded and reached out to touch any part of him that I could reach.  I tangled my fingers in the loose fabric of his sleeve and tugged.  “Vicchan.”

When he caught my eye, his were wary.  Afraid.

“I’m okay.”

He let out a quick breath and nodded once.  His fingers traced over my own for a few quiet moments, lingering on gold band that sat on my fourth finger.  “You’ve had a hard day.”

Despite everything, I smiled.  This reminded me of last year, of the slow minutes we shared after I’d worked myself to death during practice.  My muscles were tight, but I liked working hard. “It felt good.  Well, until just a minute ago.”

This time, a genuine smile spread over Victor’s face.

“Hey Pig, are you okay?”

We both jumped.  Yurio was leaning over the barrier, hair in his face.

“I’m fine.  Thanks.”

Victor tapped his lips with his finger.  “Say, Yurio, do you want to come over and cook us dinner tonight?  Yuuri is hurt and I’m distraught.”

He snarled.  “What am I, your personal chef?  Do you think I have nothing better to do?”

A beat passed in silence.

Yurio screwed up his face.  “FINE!  I made borscht last night. I’ll bring over the leftovers after I call Beka.”

Victor perked up.  “Beka?  Who’s that?”

 _Uh oh_ …  The blood drained from Yurio’s face.

“Oh!  Is that your girlfriend- _ow!”_

I’d pinched Victor hard on his arm.  He stared at me aghast and completely wounded.  “ _What was that for?_ ”

Yurio was practically bursting into flames.  His hands gripped the barrier until his knuckles were white.  “Pig will explain.  I’ll...come over later.  But I’m bringing a movie.  A scary one!”  He spun away in a flurry of motion and shards of ice.

Victor was still staring at me aghast.  “Why did you pinch me?  That hurt.”

I pressed my hand to the spot on his forearm where I had grabbed him as a peace offering.  “Because you were embarrassing him.”

He narrowed his eyes.  “ _Who_ is Beka?”

“It’s Otabek.”

A pause.  A blink.  Realization dawned on his face.

“The skater?”

“Yes.”

“Are they…?”

“Friends.”

“Wow.”

“I know.”

A wide, mischievous grin spread across Victor’s face.  “That’s sweet actually.”

“That too.”

His smile softened as he looked at me.  “Are you really okay?”

My ankle was still resting across his lap.  It hurt - a lot.  “No,” I sighed.  “Not really.”

“I’ll call a cab and we’ll get you home.  Makkachin and I will help take care of you.  She’s an excellent heating pad.”

Guilt clawed at the back of my throat.  I didn’t want to be the reason Victor missed practice.  I’d already cost him his entire skating competitive season.  I squeezed his arm again.  “You should stay here. It’s still early.”

Our eyes locked and I watched the struggle behind those sky blue irises of his.  “No,” he said at last.  “I’m done for the day.  You need me.”

I did, ever so much.  And I wanted him with me even more, but relationships were all about give and take.  I couldn’t expect him to _always_ be around to comfort me.  “Victor, I’ll be fine.”  I tried to make it sound convincing.

His eyebrows lowered into a firm line.  “Yuuri.  Let me be your other half right now, not your coach or your teammate.  You need my help, and I want to give it.  I can pick up my work tomorrow.  Nothing is more important than _you_.”

My heart was in my throat and I felt my eyes prick painfully in the corner.  Victor Nikiforov was choosing _me_ over practice.   _Don’t cry. Not here._ “Okay.”

At last Yakov arrived with the ice, and the trainer.  They poked and prodded my ankle until it hurt more than ever.  Eventually, Victor shooed everyone away and helped me wrap the icepack to my foot.  With gentle fingers, he pulled the bandage tight and snug, then squeezed my calf when he was done.  “Let’s go.”

 

When Yurio arrived at the apartment, I’d been prone on the couch for a few hours.  Both my legs were draped across Victor’s lap, and Makkachin was stretched along my body against the back cushion.

I had the same deep, pleasant feeling in my stomach as I did yesterday.  These two, they were my family.  My home.  I didn’t realize I’d been clutching Victor’s sweater until he had to get up to answer the door.

Yurio had a large pot in his arms with some DVDs stacked on top.  “I hope you’re prepared for blood and gore,” he said harshly as Victor led him to the kitchen.  “I brought my favorites.”

“Do you often watch horror movies on Friday nights?” Victor asked, scratching behind his neck as Yurio went about warming his soup.

“Every Friday. Why?”

Our eyes met from across the room and I sunk deeper into the cushions.

We ate dinner gathered around the sofa and Victor’s low coffee table.  Yurio sat facing us on the opposite side.  He still wore his hood over his messy blonde hair.  His cooking was...really good.  

“So, how’s Otabek?” Victor asked casually.  I considered pinching him again.

Yurio’s green eyes narrowed to slits.  “Fine,” he said, forcing out the word.

“Is he prepared to go against you at Worlds?”

He let out a loud barking laugh.  “As if.  But neither are you two, so…”

Eventually, we cleared away the coffee table and spread the cushions on the floor for the movie.  Victor situated my foot on a pillow with ice, and Makkachin nearby.  I felt like a burden, but the way he was fussing over me made my stomach flip a little.  Yurio watched us with feigned disgust, but even he sat close as we all huddled around each other to watch his first DVD.

By the time the real action started, Victor was all but hiding behind me with a blanket draped over his head.  Yurio had moved closer still, and was holding a pillow over his face.  I wasn’t sure if it was because I was immobile, _or_ because they somehow believed I was immune to blood and gore on screen, but I seemed to be the one thing standing between them and the zombies munching bones before us.

“Good god, Yurio,” Victor mumbled, into my shoulder.  “What’s wrong with you?”

“It’s artistry,” he said, with his face still behind the pillow.  I felt him lean into me a little more.  “You don’t get it.”

The whole thing was so ridiculous, I started laughing uncontrollably.  That was when Makkachin leapt on top of me and I ended up throwing popcorn all over the room.

After the second movie, it was late.  We set up a makeshift bed on the couch for Yurio and left the kitchen light on.  We left the lights on in our room too.

 

* * *

 

_Saturday_

 

The next morning Victor made breakfast for all of us.  It was clear by the bleary-eyed vacant expressions on everyone’s face, that no one had slept very well after our foray into Zombie Cinema.

Nevertheless, Victor dished out eggs and toast as we sat sleepily around the counter.

“I want a full rest day from you, Yuuri,” Victor said sternly, as he sipped his mug of coffee.  “I’ll come back to walk the dog halfway through practice and then bring dinner home for us.”

From beside me, Yurio snorted.  “See how bossy? This is how it starts.”

“Cool it, Kitten,” Victor snapped, pointing his fork in Yurio’s direction.  “The first time you injure that precious body of yours, you can deal with the consequences of not listening to your coach.  Missing a season is not a valid option.”

Yurio’s eyeroll was palpable, even though I wasn’t looking at him.

“Do you need anything before we go to practice?”  Victor was talking to me now.

“No, I’ll be fine.”

When everyone was showered and packed for afternoon practice, Victor spent at least twenty minutes situating my station on the sofa.  Each cushion was lovingly fluffed, he made me tea, and put a glass of water on the table, he fanned out a few flavors of protein bars for later, and made sure the remotes were reachable.  Lastly he handed me my cell phone.  

“Call me,” he said, sternly, “if you need anything.  I’ll come right home.  Understand?”

I nodded.  “Hai.”

At last, he bent at the waist and kissed the top of my head.  “I love you.”

My heart squeezed painlessly in my chest and I looked up to meet his doting smile.  “Love you too.”

“Call me,” he repeated, walking towards the door. “Come, Kitten.”

Yurio tapped the top of my head as he walked past.  “Don’t die,” he teased with a genuine smile.  “And if you disobey, Vitya might kick you out of Russia.”

Victor grumbled from the doorway, but in an instant, they were gone.  The house was practically silent, except from the tip-tapping of Makkachin’s paws as she padded over to the sofa and hopped deftly onto the cushion between my legs.  She turned twice, and lay down with her head on my thigh, staring deep into my eyes.

If I wanted to disobey Victor’s orders, I’d have to move first.

 

I was fine for a few hours.  I had managed to find a movie station on Victor’s TV with English subtitles, which was better than nothing.  Makkachin dozed, unmoving from her position on my leg, which conveniently pinned me to the sofa.  In between commercials, I’d study the small details of Victor’s apartment.  

It was seemingly put together by a designer.  All style, and no personality.  He had books everywhere, which I assumed were his.  Various trendy posters of Russian landmarks and historical events, and a wide canvas of messy brush strokes that appeared to be an expensive piece of abstract art.  There were no pictures anywhere, of him or his family.  His medals weren’t out on display, much to Yurio’s surprise and dismay.  There were tiny bits of evidence that someone else lived here too.  My scarf over the back of the barstool, my water bottle drying on the dish rack, the notepad where we’d scribbled ideas for my new free skate routine.

I picked up the notebook from the table and studied our list.  He’d drawn a heart around the phrase “quadruple flip.”  I flipped a few pages back and saw his cramped writing in Russian - characters I didn’t understand.  Then I saw my name.  “Things for Yuuri,” it said.

The following list was in both english and Russian, and in different pen colors, as though he’d written it slowly over time.  “Nicer pillow,” was one.  “New toothbrush,” was the next.  “Replace light bulb in bathroom.  New boxers (for Vitya).  Green tea.  Soy sauce.”

My chest had tightened again, this time painfully.  I felt the burn of tears in my eyes.  He’d done all of this for me?

Of course, I remembered all the little things he’d given me a week ago when I arrived.  There had been new toothpaste and soap, a neatly folded pile of pajamas, a phone charger with the right plug on my side of the bed.  A hundred little things to make me feel more at home.

What had I done for him?

Show up?  Make teriyaki?  Hurt myself?

I set the notebook back on the coffee table and pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes.  Makkachin stirred and pressed her paw to my stomach, as though even she knew I was freaking out.

Anxiety shot up my spine like cold water.  My stomach seized and I hiccupped a deep breath.  Oh Yuuri...always such a burden.  I hadn’t thought to bring anything with me for Victor, or for this place.  I’d known full well when I moved here that he would want me to live in this apartment with him; that _I_ would want to live here.

And now, I was sitting on a throne of hand-fluffed pillows with my ankle lovingly wrapped by the man I love, while he did his damndest to make it back on top in the competitive skating league.  There was no way he would succeed while also having to take care of me.  

This week had been one of the best weeks of my life, but it couldn’t go on.  He had already given up too much to be my coach, and to return to skating.  I couldn’t ask any more of him.

Hot, heavy tears fell down my cheek and neck and dampened the collar of my sweatshirt.  Of _Victor’s_ sweatshirt.  It was too big and the sleeves were too long, but the inside was the perfect amount of worn softness.  I pulled my hands inside the sleeves and pressed them to my face to dry my tears.

No, I couldn’t live here.  It would crush him, but it was the right thing to do.  Besides, wouldn’t he eventually get sick of me?  We’d only been together for a short time.  Where would he go after a grueling practice to be alone?  The bedroom?

By now, I was sitting up straight on the couch.  I lifted my legs around the dog and put both feet on the floor.  She whined in dismay.

I could get a dorm with Yurio.  He needed a place to stay anyway.  We’d hate living together so much, it would be a good excuse for me to come over here.  That is, if Victor still wanted me.

Now my stomach dropped and I swallowed hard.  Would he still want me if I moved out?

No, I couldn’t think about that.  This was the right decision.  It was right for _him_.

I hobbled myself to the bedroom and started looking for my suitcase.  He’d probably hidden it somewhere sneaky, an excuse to keep me here even if I freaked out.  I gave up after a few minutes, urgency rising with my pulse, and eventually I started throwing my clothes and underwear in the center of the bed.

“Yuuri…?”

I dropped the two pairs of rolled socks I had in my hands and whirled to meet Victor’s wide eyes in the doorway.  I hadn’t heard him come in.

He had his hand on his chest, over his heart.  “What are you doing?”

For the briefest moment, I wanted to forget everything and say, _laundry_ or some other lie to protect him.  But I couldn’t, this was _right_.  “I don’t think I should live with you, Victor.”

He stepped back, as though I’d slapped him across the face.  “What?”

“It’s not right. I’m just going to distract you from what’s really important and-”

“Sit down.”  Tall, commanding Victor was back.  He had one foot forward in a defensive stance.

I blinked up at him.

“I said _sit down_.”  He pointed at the bed for emphasis.  “Your ankle, Yuuri.  Please.”

The softness in his voice when he said my name nearly made my knees give out beneath me.  I did as I was told and clasped my hands in my lap.

“Distracting me.  As in, I can’t focus on my training while you’re here?”

I nodded and realized how stupid it sounded out loud.

“Me coming here to check on you is wasting my time?  You’re right.  I’m wasting a whole hour of practice time to come see you.  How silly of me.”

I closed my eyes tight.  The mocking tone of his words stung.

“What about what I want, Yuuri?  Am I not allowed to put myself out there, to make sure you’re okay?  I’m an adult man, I can make my own decisions.”

“I know,” I said, shamefully.  “But eventually I’ll just get in the way.”

“Eventually?”

My hands were shaking and my face nearly burned from embarrassment.  “When you get sick of me!” I shouted.  “I know you will.”

Victor’s mouth dropped open.  “Unbelievable.  And you’re what...just another notch on my belt, Yuuri?  A relationship that I can just cast aside when something better comes along?  Is that what really you think of me? Of _us_?”

Suddenly I felt like I couldn’t breathe properly.  That I couldn’t suck in enough air to keep me upright.  “I don’t know-”

“Well that’s _bullshit_ , and you know it!”  His eyes flashed in the low light of the room, like glinting sapphires.  “After the last year, after _everything_ , you think I could cast you aside like it meant nothing?  That I could watch you walk away without another thought given?  We gave each other _rings_ , Yuuri.  What about those?”

“Victor, I…”

Now he rounded on me and ripped my right hand from my lap.  The gold band winked at me from my finger.  “I not going to leave you!  Don’t you understand?”  He dropped my hand and paced in front of me.  His hands pulled frantically at his hair.  “‘ _Victor Nikiforov, famous bachelor, breaker of hearts.’_  I wasn’t just passing the time, Yuuri, I was looking for someone to share my life with.  Looking for you!”

I didn’t realize I’d been crying already, but now my chest hitched and I breathed out his name.

He stopped before me and knelt on the ground.  “I don’t want to be without you.  That’s why you’re here, in Russia, isn’t it?  Because we wanted to stay together?  That’s not just on the ice, that’s here...at home.”  He beat his hand on his chest, fingers spanning wide.   _Home_.  He and I, here, anywhere.

He reached for my hand and squeezed it tightly.  “I want you in my life every moment.  When you’re hurt and I have to take care of you, through the every day, and when I eventually find that my career is over and I need you to lift me up.”

“Victor….”

“God _dammit_ Yuuri!”  He threw my hand away and stood up again, too full of nervous energy to sit still.  “Why are you doing this?  This isn’t about you not living here.  This is you running away again.  From me.  You know that, right?”

I let my head fall between my shoulders and watched the tears fall on the floor at my feet.

“I can’t make you stay.  I won’t, if that’s what you want.  But you should know that what you’re talking about is stupid.  It’s stupid and selfish, Yuuri.  I thought we got over this when we both decided to continue skating.  I thought when I asked you to move here, you said yes because you knew what we were.”  His breath hitched as he said, “I guess I was wrong.”

“N-no.  That’s not…”

“I have to go back.”  My head snapped up.  He was leaving?  He couldn’t leave now.    “Think about...everything,” he continued. “If you still want to leave when I get home in a few hours, then we have more to talk about.”

He turned without another word and walked out of the room.

“Victor!” I called, reaching out uselessly with my hand.  “Wait.  Victor, _please_!”

He stopped and turned his head.

“Please don’t go.  Not like this.  I need you.”

Victor watched me cautiously.  

“You’re right.  About everything.”  I covered my face with my hands and cried.  “Please don’t go.  I can’t live without you either.”

In an instant I was shoved backwards on the bed with Victor on top of me, kissing my hands and my face.  We were crying together and kissing tear-stained lips and cheeks.

“Why do you do this, Yuuri?” he hissed between slow kisses.

“You know why,” I answered.  “It’s what I _do_.”

He pulled back and ran his fingers through my hair to pull it off my face.  “Not with me.  With skating, yes, but I don’t want you to keep doing this with me.”

I started shaking my head slowly.  “I can’t promise that, Vicchan.  It just...happens.”

Victor watched me for a long moment, thumb sweeping rhythmically across my temple.  I saw pity in his eyes, love, and maybe a little hurt.  It didn’t make sense to me either, but it was who I was.  “Then I’ll fight you on it, every time.”

When he kissed me, it felt like a promise, and I kissed him back just as fiercely.  We lay there for a long time, until my tears stopped and my breathing slowed.

“Okay,” I said, over his cheek.

“Okay what?”

I fisted the front of his sweatshirt and shoved him off my chest so that he hovered over me with his hands on either side of my head.  “Okay, I’ll live here.  With you.”

His eyes were pink-rimmed and shining bright from the tears we’d just shed, but his cheeks were pink with emotion.  “Don’t just say that if-”

“I mean it.  Victor, I want to build a life with you.  Here, or wherever we are.  And I’m sorry.”

He lowered himself back down, and shifted his body so he was beside me.  He brushed his thumb over my cheek and looked over every inch of my face.  “If we live together, it comes with a lot of ugly stuff too.  I won’t run away, I promise, but you can’t either.”

My lip trembled.  “I won’t.”

He tangled his fingers with my hair.  “So you’re saying yes.”

I nodded and let him kiss me, deep and slow.  He was _so_ good at it.

“You didn’t give it a week.”

“When have I ever listened to you, Victor?”

He laughed over my lips and all the pain in my heart from earlier melted away.  I locked my arms around him and kissed him back.  

 

* * *

  

_Sunday - One Week_

 

“Yuuri.”

The deep sound of Victor’s voice was more like a tease than an alarm.  I swatted his face away from my ear and pulled the covers tighter around my body.

I could feel the weight of him on the mattress beside me, over me, and I fought hard against the urge to throw my legs and arms around him and pull him on top of me.  Right now, sleep was winning.

“Darling, you have to get up,” he laughed, seemingly amused by my drowsy antics.

It must be late if he was already so awake.  Anxiety episodes tend to knock me flat out.  I couldn’t even guess what time it was.

“Why?” I whined, reaching out a hand blindly for his shirt and tugging it so that he collapsed beside me on the pillow.

He laughed even harder now.  “We’re going to get the rest of your things from storage, remember?  Yurio is here to help.”

 _Storage.  Yurio_.   _Moving in_.  Not as fun as sleeping.  With Victor.  Or sleeping _with_ Victor.

Arousal stirred low in my stomach and I curved my body around his, nuzzling my nose in the warm crook of his neck.

Victor growled appreciatively but restrained me slightly, with firm hands on my hips.  “Not now, my love.  Yurio is already waiting in the living room.”

“You guys are _disgusting!!”_ I heard, loudly from down the hall.  “Get the fuck up, Pig. I’ve already seen enough of your private lives as it is.”

Yuri Plisetsky: as smooth and effective as a bucket of freezing water.  I sat up in bed and Victor rolled off me. “I’ll shower?” I asked.

“Yep,” Victor said with a nod, hands pressed tightly to his face.

I stumbled blindly in the direction of the bathroom but stopped when I heard my name.

He was wearing a goofy grin from his prone position on the bed.  “Tonight.”

A pleasant warmth spread from the back of my neck down my body. I let out a little sigh of happiness. “Tonight.”

In his sexy, feline way, he pulled himself from the bed and stalked towards me.

“ _You guys had better be getting ready in there!_ ”

Long legs in jeans, a loose grey sweater that hung away from his collarbone in beautiful ways, the perfect drape of his hair over his forehead.  Victor Nikiforov - five time figure skating world champion, unbeatable on the ice, beloved Russian athlete.

“ _I didn't get up at eight in the morning to play with your stupid dog!”_

Victor’s arms snaked around my waist and pulled me close. “And tomorrow.”

And despite everything, he was mine.

All mine.


	2. Bonus - Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had to add this after I saw [the new official art from early this week](https://twitter.com/soukatsu_/status/836127858468794368).
> 
> Just a little intro to back when Yuri decided to head to Saint Petersburg in the first place. AND THOSE RIDICULOUS SMILES AND THEIR HANDS. *dies*
> 
> Thanks also for all of the kind comments and kudos on this fic! I was such a pleasant surprise and I really appreciate your support!!

_ Prologue _

 

The cool pressure of Victor’s hands on my face wasn’t what struck me, it was the  _ look _ in his eyes.  I’d never seen him this way before.  There was love there, yes, but more than that.  Pride, excitement, awe.

With a start I realized that I  _ had  _ seen this Victor before, just not close up.  I’d seen it on television and from the stands; the face of Victor Nikiforov after a performance.  But he’d never been looking at  _ me _ .

We had just broken our final pose after the end of our exhibition duet - a feat in its own right.  The cheers in the arena were deafening, unlike anything I’d ever heard on the ice.  Flowers and plush toys were raining from above like a freak snow storm.

Excitement was pulsing through my entire body.  There was so much to be thankful for:  my silver medal, my career, bright and shining with possibility, the promise of Victor returning to the ice, and this.   _ Us. _

Our chests rose and fell in rapid succession, tandem gasps for breath filling the space between us.  The moment demanded a kiss, but both our lips were parched from the routine and we could hardly even breathe.  Instead I smiled wide at Victor, who was holding my face as tenderly as a lover but also as my coach.  He had given me more strength and confidence in these few short months than I ever thought possible.

Echoes of  _ Stammi Vicino  _ were still bouncing around in my head.  We’d just painted a love story out on the ice, for all to see.  

_ Our _ love story.   

We both could have stayed there forever, watching the intricacies of emotion flit between our eyes, but we’d already taken too long on the ice.  On cue, we broke apart and waved to the crowd together.  The cheers were unrelenting and I didn’t stop the nervous laugh that fell from my lips.

“This is for you, Yuuri,” Victor murmured beside me, grasping our free hands together and lifting them sky high.

I laughed harder, drunk on adrenaline and joy.  “No it’s not.  I think it’s for both of us.”

We shared a fond smile before we split and circled around opposite ends of the rink to gather a few gifts from the ice.  I knew Victor usually scooped up the flowers for himself, but I always went for the plushies.  Tonight, did not disappoint.

Victor covered his mouth to hold back a laugh as he caught sight of what I’d found.  His eyes crinkled behind his hand.  “Wow! Amazing!” he cried.  “He’ll never forgive you this time.”

It was a tiny, angry Yurio plushie.  I hugged it tight to my chest.  It was a great deal softer than the real thing.

Photographers gathered at the barrier, hollering for a picture as we neared.  Normally I smiled politely and continued off the ice, but Victor wrapped a warm arm around my shoulder and pulled me close.  “Not so fast, my prince.  I want a photo of this.”

I couldn’t have wiped the smile off my face if I’d tried.  I slipped my arm around Victor’s waist and felt him press his temple to my own.

The flashes were blinding in the darkness of the arena tonight, but I had Victor beside me to hold me upright.  When the questions started, we knew it was time to go.

_ “Are you two a couple?” _

_ “Are you really engaged?” _

_ “Was this your wedding ceremony!” _

_ “Victor! Does this mean you’re out of retirement!” _

_ “Yuri, will you break up with him now that-” _

“Thank you,” Victor trilled, waving with a polite sense of finality.

The questions stopped, but the flashbulbs didn’t as we slipped on our jackets and skate guards.  Victor grasped my hand and hurriedly pulled us out of the fray.  Time to give the next skater the stage they deserved.  Our footsteps clomped loudly on the carpeted walkway but the shutter snaps did not follow.

We retreated to the nearby hallway, leading down to the underbelly of the arena.  Once behind the curtains, we were only interrupted by various passing coaches and sponsors.  The rest of our friends were either warming up or watching the performances.

A swell of new cheers erupted from outside the curtain and at last, I felt like we were alone.

There was a rustling noise as Victor dropped the bouquets from his arms, and suddenly I was being pressed to the wall, his hands back on my face.

“Yuri,” he cooed.  I stared at his lips.

Boy, did I need a drink of water.

“I want this.”

I blinked up at him.  “Want what?”

“You.”

At this, I smiled goofily up at him.  A year ago, he offered me a commemorative photo.  Tonight, he was going to  _ kiss _ me.  

“Victor,” I admonished, placing a hand on his arm and squeezing the strong muscle that had lifted me off the ice mere moments before.  “You have me.  I thought that was obvious.”

His face softened and a smile that was a little bit shy spread over his angular face.  “I know.  That’s not what I mean.  I don’t mean just you, here, in my arms.”  His hands slid down my neck, until they rested in my shoulders.  “I mean  _ this _ .  Skating with you.  Traveling with you.   _ Being _ with you.”

One of his thumbs pressed against the exposed skin of my collarbone.  I shivered.

“Remember when it was just you and me in Hasetsu?  Getting to know each other, training, laughing.  That’s what I want, all the time.  I’m done being alone.”

My stomach began humming with nerves.  These were concrete things - concrete  _ relationship _ things, that hadn’t seemed to crack the walls of our bubble yet.  The bubble of my skating season, with me and Victor and no one else.  My own, selfish bubble.  I swallowed thickly.

“Um…”

“Live with me.”

My mind was moving so fast, I almost didn’t hear him.  “What?”

“Move so Saint Petersburg with me.  Live with me.”

“ _ Victor _ …”

He gave me a crooked, Yuri-you’re-being-stupid smile, shook his head and kissed me.

Chapped lips be damned, if this was the method he’d worked out to shut my brain up, I was more than willing to comply.

Victor probably meant for it to be chaste and innocent; a sweet kiss to stop me from over-thinking, and get me to acquiesce to his demand.  That wasn’t what happened.  As soon as our lips touched, it was like a floodgate had opened between us.  Everything we’d just experienced on the ice, the thrill of our futures open and exciting before us, the buzz of my silver medal and victory.

I let plushie Yurio fall from my arms and wrapped them tightly around Victor’s waist.  His hands lifted back to my face, lovingly pressing into my skin and cradling me like I was something precious.

One kiss turned into two, and then three.  There was teeth and tongue, and the loud sounds of our breathing in the deserted hall.  I thought about all the moments we could spend alone like this, just me and Victor and a whole night of  _ this _ .

Victor pulled back first, with his forehead pressed hard into my own.  He bit down on his lips and his smile.

“You think that will work every time?  Kissing me?” I asked.

He chuckled and shrugged, glancing down at our skates.  They were pressed toe to toe.  The warm gold of his blades winked at me from the ground.

Victor’s voice was serious when he said, “I mean it, Yuri.  We said we don’t want things to end here.  I want you to come with me.”

I didn’t want them to end either.  “Okay.”

Bright blue eyes snapped up.

“You’re right,” I said.  “It would make the most sense for both of us.  But it’ll have to be after-”

“Nationals.  And Worlds.  I know.  And you’ll need to tell your family and make arrangements.  There’s still a long way to go, for both of us.”  He smiled.  “But you’ll come?”

I nodded.  My voice wavered as I said, “Yes.”

This time it was my hands on his face, watching his expression as it crumpled slightly with emotion.  He was right, he’d been alone for so long.  We both had.  Now we had each other.  I kissed him again, briefly.

“Come,” he said, reaching for my hand.  He pressed it to his lips once, then let it fall at our sides, entwined in his fingers.   “Yurio is on after JJ.  Let’s get these skates off, then find a seat so we can throw the plushie at him.”

“No way!” I said, lifting the toy up from the floor and dusting it off slightly.  “This one goes in the collection back home for sure.”

We laughed together as we continued down the hallway to our bags. Victor’s arm was slung loosely around my shoulders.  I thought about Russia, just for a moment, and what it might look like with me in it.

Victor leaned down and kissed my cheek loudly.

What it might look like with  _ us _ in it...

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Excited to post my first Yuri on Ice fic.
> 
> I based the "Movie Night" portion of this story off an adorable piece of fanart. You can see the original here (https://twitter.com/pinkiepieS2/status/811477073613049856)
> 
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed! Thank you so much!
> 
> Thanks also, to my dear friend and Mindsistah for pre-reading this for me and leaving delightful comments. They keep me motivated!


End file.
